When discussing Russian humor, one might first think of the dark, dissident humor of the Soviet era, when the powerless used bitter wit as a private form of revenge against the powerful. In those times, when the promises of Communist idealism and technological progress left an aftertaste of disillusionment for the average person, humor became a coping mechanism:
Under capitalism, men exploit men. Under communism, it’s the other way around.
Is there life on Mars?
No, not even there.
The life of satire in Russia is short and unhappy: Under Stalin those who told political jokes were imprisoned and killed; anti-Soviet anekdoty were still a crime in the 1970s. Everything changed under Gorbachev (1985-1991), the first Soviet leader to publicly tell jokes about himself. His favorite one was the following:[1]
Two men are in line waiting to buy vodka. An hour goes by, then two, and the line barely moves. Everyone is in a terrible mood. Finally, one of the men can’t take it any longer. ‘That is it! I’m sick of this kind of life. Everywhere there are lines, you cannot buy anything, and the store shelves are empty. All of this is because of Gorbachev and his stupid perestroika. I’ve had enough. I’m going to the Kremlin right now to assassinate him’. The man returns after two hours, still angry, and says, ‘To hell with it! At the Kremlin the line to assassinate Gorbachev is longer than this one.’
It was no surprise that the entire system collapsed a few years after Gorbachev made fun of himself so bluntly.
The 1990s were a vibrant era for political satire in Russia. The press seized on the new pluralistic political landscape to critique various leaders. Among the most notable examples was the satirical show Kukly (Dolls) on the NTV channel. One episode, called Little Zaches particularly touched on Putin’s sensitivity: The new president was compared to the main character of Hofmann’s 1819 tale Little Zaches. Son of a poor peasant women, disfigured and intellectually disabled, Zaches is gifted by the fairy Rosabelverde with the magical power of attracting people to himself and taking their merits. In the video, Putin is shown as Elcin’s creation, a newborn deformed child. Putin’s fairy is oligarch Berezovsky, who is seen combing him until he becomes beautiful and convinces everyone that he is an ‘adonis’ and he takes all power.
According to Kukly’s creator, Viktor Shenderovich, the restructuring of NTV under Putin’s administration directly led to the show’s demise. The Kremlin reportedly issued a written directive to the channel’s management with three specific demands:
- Cease broadcasting any information about corruption within the Kremlin.
- Adjust the tone of coverage regarding the war in Chechnya.
- Remove the satirical portrayal of Putin from Kukly.
These demands effectively silenced one of Russia’s most daring platforms for political critique.
When dealing with Russian humor, a step further is required. The question “How can Russian comedians make fun of power under a repressive state?” should be replaced by “How does power itself use humor to further its agenda and shape public perception?” In this context, humor should be approached a dispositif de pouvoir (a tool of power), as described by French philosopher Michel Foucault.
The war with Ukraine and the growing tensions with NATO made the clash of civilization more real than ever and humor became one peculiar tool in the hands of power to facilitate and promote certain visions of the world. Some stand-up comedians were not at ease with it and had to choose which side to take.
The war’s impact on Russian comedians
The war in Ukraine shocked Russia’s comedy scene. On February 27, 2022, just days after the invasion began, a group of 260 Russian-speaking comedians signed an open letter to President Vladimir Putin, urging him to end the conflict. Several comedians, including Denis Chuzhoy, Mikhail Schatz and Danila Poperechny, later reported receiving threats from members of the Wagner militia. Many of the signatories already live and work in exile.
For some, exile was not a choice. Belarusian comedian Slava Komissarenko, pursued by the Minsk KGB for mocking Alexander Lukashenko, fled to avoid persecution. Similarly, Idrak Mirzalizade was banned for life from Russia after joking about racism among native Russians. Exiled comedians struggle to negotiate their roles in a fraught environment. In Berlin, Tbilisi, and elsewhere, they perform for audiences equally critical of the Kremlin and wary of Russians in general.
Read also: “All Funny on the Eastern Front”: war humor in Russia and Ukraine
Tensions between comedians and civil society have grown. In April 2022, comedian Nourlan Sabourov faced backlash in the United States during his performances. Pro-Ukraine activists repeatedly interrupted his shows, and when a woman wearing a bloodstained white dress took the stage to symbolize Ukrainian suffering, Sabourov mocked her, saying: “Are you on your period or what?”. A dark and cruel joke, yet symbolizing the rage of many Russians who are called out as responsible for the Kremlin’s decision, as if they were their own.
Others, however, adjusted their stance to survive. Azamat Moussagaliev, for example, posted a message calling for peace early in the war. However, as authorities quickly banned such language, he deleted the post and aligned himself with official narratives. His role as the host of a prestigious humoristic talk show made opposing the Kremlin too risky. That’s why Moussagaliev and his colleague Denis Dorokhov went a step further by openly supporting the war. On September 8, 2022, they performed in the “Donetsk People’s Republic,” a region Russia annexed in a referendum not recognized by most UN member states. The event, held at the Saur-Mogila memorial, commemorated the Red Army’s liberation of Donbass in 1943. The Kremlin routinely draws parallels between the “Great Patriotic War” and its current war in Ukraine, portraying itself as fighting “Nazis in Kyiv” backed by the “collective West”.
The two comedians performed a propagandistic song titled The Important Man, mocking the West for underestimating Russia’s nuclear capacity. The song’s premise is that Americans and Germans mistakenly think that the “important man” for them is their presidents, when in fact it is Sergeant Vasily—a fictional Russian soldier maneuvering a mobile missile system in Siberia—the only one who can truly affect their lives (by reaching them with atomic missiles).
Across the ocean,
Americans live
Watching TV shows and eating hamburgers
Believing they are God’s chosen nation
They all think the most important person
Sits in the White House or Capitol Hill
But somewhere in Siberia’s vast snowy expanse
A mobile missile system is on the move
Behind the wheel is Sergeant Vasily
Yes, Vasily, Vasily is the most important man for America!
Somewhere near us, the Germans live
The Germans love sausages and beer
They think the Americans are the coolest people in the world
But otherwise, the Germans are just like us
They are all convinced that nothing in the world is more important than the Bundestag
And even though their Frau-Chancellor is obsessed with sanctions
She remains, for them, the most important person in the world
But somewhere in the vast expanse of the Baltic Sea
There is a nuclear-powered ship armed with a Bulava missile
It is commanded by a Russian naval officer named Vasily
Vasily is Germany’s most important man!
The Kremlin’s strategic use of humor
There has been a crucial shift in the use of political humor in post-Soviet Russia: from critique of power to its instrument. Researcher Dmitry Chernobrov calls this “strategic humor”,[2] designed to popularize state narratives and promote their acceptance, particularly effective in the age of social media and post-truth politics.
For example, the Russian embassy in London used humor to undermine the British government’s accusations during the Sergei Skripal poisoning scandal. Similarly, RT (Russia Today) has produced videos mocking Western support for Ukraine, including a satirical Christmas video in 2022 depicting Europe’s energy doomsday. The spot starts during Christmas 2021: Europe is at peace. We see a happy European family; a little girl receives a small mouse as a gift. The video then shows “Christmas 2022”, after the start of the war in Ukraine. The family has no electricity and decides to use the mouse as a dynamo to generate energy. The final scene takes place on Christmas 2023. The war in Ukraine continues. The family is living in deplorable conditions, with no heating or food. To survive, they are forced to eat the mouse. They cook it in a soup to avoid upsetting the little girl. The video ends with the message: “Merry Christmas to the anti-Russians.”
Putin himself had joked about Russia’s energy leverage on Europe at the 2022 Valdai Forum:
In Europe, a child asks his father: “Dad, why is it so cold?”
“Because Russia attacked Ukraine.”
“What does that have to do with us?”
“We imposed sanctions on the Russians.”
“Why?”
“To make them suffer.”
“So, are we the Russians or what?”
The Biden and Macron series
Biden and Macron are arguably two of the most (un)popular world leaders in Russian public opinion. They even became verbs and gained popularity during the first months of the war.
– Baidenut’ – “To Biden”, meaning to speak nonsense or be out of context (a nod to Biden’s gaffes).
– Makronit’ – “To Macron”, meaning to make repeated, fruitless calls (mocking Macron’s useless diplomatic efforts to dissuade Putin from invading Ukraine).
The Gazprom-owned TNT network has capitalized on this perception by cementing stereotypes about them through two satirical TV sitcoms.
One series, evocatively titled Goodbye, focuses on US President Joe Biden. The plot follows Biden as he travels undercover to Russia to observe firsthand how his sanctions have impacted the lives of ordinary Russians (spoiler: they haven’t). On his first day, however, he loses his documents, but gains a new ally – a patriotic Russian who becomes his guide on a series of comical adventures through Russia and its enigmatic “soul”. Biden takes a job as an English teacher at a local school, while back in the US, CIA agents mistakenly repatriate a Russian pensioner named Ivanych, who happens to bear an uncanny resemblance to the President.
Another TV series, named “Macron” tells the story of a 24-year-old named Andrei, who leaves Moscow for his small hometown in the Arkhangelsk region to introduce his girlfriend, Vika, to his conservative parents. Vika, Andrei’s boss, is 20 years older than him. His relatives, joke that their family now has “its own Macron”.
Andrei’s mother firmly opposes their union and wishes for his son to come back with his former younger girlfriend and found a family.
Read also: Europe’s Russian Dilemma: clash or cooperation?
If one looks at Russian comic tv series today, the West is not in its best shape. Biden is depicted as an old idiot, the US administration as a bunch of nitwits, while Macron’s relation with an older woman is seen as a strange and unnatural choice, frowned upon in Putin’s Russia, where a demographic surge is seen as necessary.
Humor as a power tool
There is therefore a rarely discussed facet of laughter in Russia: its potential as a power tool to facilitate the acceptance of certain world visions, orienting the population according to Russia’s shifting allies and enemies.
Satire was as witty and powerful as it was short-lived in post-Soviet years. Today, humor on official media seems to be directed towards supporting the Kremlin in its clash of civilization against the West. Anti-government Russian stand-up comedians find little space abroad, often facing anti-Russian sentiment and broad skepticism.
It’s a pity that Western media and politicians are often unable to separate Russia’s government from its citizens and notable figures: The number of Russia-related hysteria related to cultural events left many speechless. Dostoyevsky, Tchaikovsky and Pushkin have been “cancelled” as if they had advised Putin to invade. It was no easier for normal Russian citizens. In November 2023, Estonia, Latvia and Lithuania closed the borders for all cars registered in Russia, making it impossible for normal citizens hoping to avoid war mobilization – perfect gift for the Kremlin’s already refurbished Russophobia arsenal.
One would wish for some real sense of humor. As Russia recognized the separatist republics of Donetsk and Lugansk, a prelude to the invasion of Ukraine in February 2022, EU High Representative Joseph Borrel tried to sound funny tweeting (and rapidly removing) that for Russians there was going to be “no more: shopping in Milan, partying in Saint Tropez and diamonds in Antwerp. This is the first step. We are united.”
Russian officials and media certainly poorly stereotype the West when they make fun. If only the West had better jokes about Russians!
Notes:
[1] Zlobin, N. (1996) Humor as Political Protest in “Demokratizatsiya” Vol.4, No.2, pp. 223-231.
[2] Tchernobrov, D., « Strategic Humour: Public Diplomacy and comic framing of foreign policy issues », The British Journal of Politics and International Relations, 2022, vol. 24(2), p. 277–296.